Lilac - B.B. Reid Page 0,30

Braxton appeared, her face flushed and coated with sweat like she’d just run a mile. I noticed her dress was wrinkled at the hem, making me frown. “Are you okay?” he asked when she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

“Yes. My apologies. Would you like dessert?”

“Are you on the menu?” I flirted.

“You shouldn’t ask questions you already know the answer to. Shall I bring the checks?”

“Rich got it,” I answered. Since this was his idea, he could pay for the fucking food. Braxton looked at him for confirmation, to which he gave with a nod of his head. She scurried off, and like all the times before, I watched her go. I wondered if she knew that dress was tight enough to tell that she was no longer wearing panties.

Oh, hell yeah.

I know your secret.

I stared at the text message from the unknown number. My heart pounding inside my chest seemed loud to my ears as I walked to the bus stop. My shift was over, and my feet were killing me. The concrete pavement seemed to turn my heels into daggers as I practically limped down the sidewalk. Needing a distraction, I decided to text back.

Who is this?

The response was immediate, like they were just waiting for me to ask.

The reason you’re not wearing panties.

I stopped walking as I became painfully aware of the fact that I wasn’t. How did they know? I texted back to get an answer.

Tell me who this is, or you’re blocked, creep.

A moment later, my phone rang, and my gut painfully twisted when I realized it was the same number. Even worse…it was a video call.

I debated for all of two seconds before quickly tapping the green button. What harm could a phone call do? If it turned out to be a stalker or a creep, I could just block the number.

The call connected, and my jaw dropped when Loren’s face appeared. Smiling wide, he moved his gorgeous face closer to the camera.

“Now you know, baby fawn.”

“Loren?”

A blond eyebrow arched. “You know anyone else who looks this devilishly handsome?” His nostrils flared as if expecting my answer to piss him off.

“What exactly do you think you know about me?” I asked instead of falling into his trap.

Rolling over in what looked like a bed, he stared at me before responding. “I know that you’re incredibly responsive to unusual persuasion.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

Instead of answering, his gaze moved to my background, turning from playful to assessing. “Where are you?”

“Bus stop.”

His brows instantly dipped as he shot up from his lazy lounge. “At this time of night?” he spat as if I’d done something out of line.

“Gee, Dad, I didn’t realize I had a curfew.” After rolling my eyes, I added more amicably, “My car broke down, remember?”

“You could have told us you needed a ride.”

“You guys left the restaurant hours ago. You expect me to believe you would have waited around that long?” My coworkers had lost their shit when Bound signed and gave a bunch of free merchandise before finally leaving. They’d also left me a generous tip I hadn’t earned before they left—enough to repair my car.

“We would have sent Barry to pick you up.”

“I assumed that perk was for rehearsals only.”

“Now you know,” he responded shortly.

I was thrown for a moment. Utterly bewildered. I couldn’t decide if Loren was acting like my father or my boyfriend. What right did he have to be upset about my choices when they affected him in no way? He didn’t even know me well enough to care this much as a friend.

“Speaking of late, what do you say we pick this up at a more appropriate hour?” Or not at all.

“Don’t you dare hang up,” he ordered, but it sounded more like a growl.

I hadn’t known Loren long, but this side of him had taken me by surprise. I assumed Houston was the only dominating one. Loren was more of an anarchist, staunchly rejecting authority and proudly boasting his devil-may-care attitude. I envied him.

Right now, though, he looked ready to rip my head off—mine and an imaginary enemy who wished me harm.

“I have pepper spray.”

“Do you have a gun?” he countered. “Or even a drop of self-defense skills?”

I wrinkled my nose. “No.”

“Then keep your ass on the line.”

Something akin to freshly cut grass, morning dew, or what I imagined a meadow would smell like stormed my olfactory senses. When I inhaled, the air felt clean despite the smog covering the city. It was

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